Words
by anime-lovin'-freak
Summary: Finn was never bothered by his lack of an overloaded vocabulary. Until his words caused Rachel to get a new wardrobe and ignore the consequences thereof. Short Finchel oneshot- almost a drabble- from Finn's POV.


Hello fellow earthlings! Here is a fanfiction that is not actually mine. It was written by a friend who asked me to post this on my FF account. Please read and review.

**Neither of us own Glee or Finn's awesomeness. (Though if I did own Glee I would make sure Jesse and Rachel never broke up, just to remind my sister of all the times she was mean to me)

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**Words**

I'm not very good with words. I know enough to get my point across (especially when I'm mad. I have very expressive words to use then) but I don't know an excess amount. Not like Rachel, who usually sounds like she's swallowed a dictionary or three. But it's okay- she takes the time to translate the most important bits of what she says into language I can understand. And she never gets prissy while doing it. So we work nicely together: she has enough words for the both of us and I have enough strength and height for the both of us. (She hates it when I call her tiny or use her head as an armrest. It's adorable.)

There's only one problem with this agreement we have. Because Rach is the word person, words seem to get to her more. I can still shrug off most things (even more so now that I've joined Glee. It's made me able to stand up for myself, strangely) and I forget the hurtful comments quite quickly. But not Rachel. Every bit of criticism directed at her she absorbs and those hurtful words fester copiously under her skin. (Kurt used 'copiously' yesterday and I looked it up. Now it's stuck in my head.) She's a great actress, so she makes as if they don't bother her. But I see her face when she thinks nobody is looking. Those words kill her. Rachel Berry and criticism do not go well together.

Strangely enough it's not comments about her singing that get to her the worst. One would expect it to be, but I guess she's sure enough about her talent not to listen too much. Or she's just used to it by now. (I once read some of the comments on her MySpace profile and I had to avoid several people the next day or else I would have punched their faces in, female or otherwise.) Instead, what gets her the most are comments about us. How we're never going to last. How I'm going to get bored of her. How it's impossible for a guy like me to actually like an annoying, unpopular, self-centered girl like her. Comments like that and the bets that come with them. Bets on who's going to stray first, bets on how much she'll freak, bets on how long before I leave her this time. (I still feel awful about breaking up with her but I think I got a just punishment. Having to watch her and that… that… prancing, backstabbing… guy… was worse than hell. And I _swear _I can still smell him on her sometimes… It drives me insane.) I tried to tell her to ignore them, but my bad words just didn't seem to help.

In fact, they made things worse once. Rach and I were 'practicing a new song' backstage of the deserted and dark auditorium. She was wrapped safely in my arms (where I like her best) and everything was going great (I hadn't even had to think about practicing for my driving permit yet) until she suddenly burst into tears. I hate it when any girl cries, but Rach is an entire new level altogether. The way her lips tremble and her eyes get so big and wounded… It should be criminal. Anyway, she started crying and I started freaking and trying to make her stop. Eventually I managed to get her to admit that the Cheerios had been especially mean and full of spiteful comments that day. In my limited vocab I told her to ignore them, that it was okay, that they were just bored. Something along those line. Then, jokingly to try and make her smile again, I told her perhaps she shouldn't wear such out-there fashion; it would make her harder to pick out from the crowed. That way we could slip by them unnoticed most times. She didn't laugh but she got this thoughtful look on her face. I didn't think much of it because, honestly, _nobody _understands what goes on in Rachel's head. I actually kind of forgot about how she seemed to take my joke as some kind of serious theory or something because she carried on kiss- er… _practicing with me _a bit after that.

That day after Glee practice Rachel tracked Mercedes and Kurt down and had a serious, hushed conversation with them. For once the two looked pleased when she was done talking instead of murderous like they usually do. I asked her what she talked to them about but she just smiled and changed the subject. For the rest of school she was much cheerier and I once again forgot about the secret talk and thoughtful look. Until football practice. Rach and I were the first two in the locker room and so while I started getting changed she started cleaning out my locker (She's one of the bravest people I know.) This time she fished out a three-week old sandwich, my missing Math paper, three pens I'd never seen before in my life and an old T-Shirt I'd stuffed in there with the intention of making it disappear. It was one of those Christmas presents you have to pretend to like- it really wasn't the sort of thing I'd wear. Ever. I told Rach to throw it out too, but before I could answer her questioning glance the rest of the team arrived. And Rachel fled. The look on her face as she left reminded me of her hurt from earlier and I decided to talk to someone about it. When I mentioned it to Puck (Nobody knows how we became best friends again, not even us. It just… Happened) he gave me this look and told me to "man-the-hell-up" and kiss her until the "emotional crap" went away.

I wanted to take his advice but after practice Rachel informed me that she had to cancel our homework date as something had come up. I was confused (and a little scared. How was I going to do algebra by myself?) but I knew she wouldn't cancel without a good reason so I let it be. I had no time to think about her strange(r than usual) behavior that evening: my homework took advantage of having me alone and slaughtered me. I was actually planning on hamming it up the next day so that she'd feel bad and let me copy her answers for once but as soon as I saw her all thoughts of Killer Homework were driven from my mind.

Rachel had new clothes. A denim mini-skirt and strappy top that I know was in fashion. And her legs were knee-sock free; gloriously bare in the light that seemed to shine only on them as she walked… She looked… beyond amazing. Like at first I didn't even know it was Rachel. And I wasn't the only one who noticed. Heads turned as Rachel walked past and the general expression was one of shocked disbelief. I saw her walk past a group of Cheerios with tensed shoulders, waiting for the onslaught. But it never came. They said one passing comment and then turned away. Rach met me with a wide smile, elated at my response to her clothes and at the lack of response from her tormentors. I admitted to her I had a little weak spot for girls in short denim and she just laughed like she'd know the fact already but still found it nice to hear. (Knowing her she probably _had _known already. The things Rachel can fish up about people are just scary.) The rest of the day passed in more peace than we'd had in ages. After school at Glee Rach proudly told me that she'd only gotten 14 and a half (where the half came from I'll never know) bad comments- an all time low. Mercedes high-fived her while smirking in a very smug way. I figured then that she'd had something to do with Rach's clothing change. To be honest I didn't care; Rach was beautiful, Rach was happy, Glee went awesome and Rach let me copy her homework without complaint. Everything was great with the world.

The next day Rachel came to school in the prettiest summer dress I'd seen in ages. It floated when she walked and it reminded me of the Regionals costumes. I wasn't the only one to notice it, though: Jacob Israel took one look and gaped like he'd just been punched in the gut. (If he'd continued to stare I would have made his look real.) And again the comments that hit Rachel seemed half-hearted and easy to brush off. It continued like that for a week. After the dress Rach came in a tight pair of jeans a totally different style to her usual ones. These were followed by leggings and a tunic, another skirt, jeans again and yet another dress.( I might have messed up the order they appeared in but you get the picture. She wore new clothes every day.) Now, don't get me wrong; Rach looked amazing. But by day five I had started to miss her old clothes. For one thing it actually _was _easier to find her in a crowed when she was wearing an animal sweater, and that meant I could get to her quicker. For another thing… I don't know. I just find she looks cute in her weird fashion. Yeah, she'd worn one of her old skirts during the week but it was without her infamous knee-socks and a preppy top that made nobody notice it was old. Maybe it's an acquired taste (Another Kurt phrase. Between living with him and dating Rachel my English grades are improving steadily.) If it is, I've acquired it, all right. And lastly because she seemed to have left a bit of herself in her old clothes. It sounds dumb but there was just… something missing. That extra spark was gone. A bit of my inane, over-the-top Rachel was gone. And I missed it.

Then Rach started wearing her old pants again. (Suddenly and without warning, I might add.) It was still far off from her knee-socks but it was more her, and I wasn't complaining. Other people, however, were. The comments seemed to turn up a notch and even Mer took her aside to ask what she was doing. Rachel explained her sudden backtracking to nobody, and a sad tint entered her eyes again. The pants-and-jeans wardrobe continued until her washing caught up with her and she was forced to come to school in a skirt. It was ankle-length and she wore long boots with it. (According to most people this was fashion suicide. I didn't really see the difference..) But again the only ones complaining of her choice were those who hated Rach already. (And Kurt and Mer because they seemed to get physically hurt every time they saw her 'return to the dark side'.)

It wasn't until much later that day that I found out the reason behind her choice. We were in the auditorium again, practicing for Glee. Then the practicing turned to kissing. (As it usually does. Heck, I love her voice even more when she uses it to reel me in.) In the process, her skirt hitched up a bit (not THAT much- get your mind out of the gutter) and _happening _to glance down I saw a sight that made my blood freeze. All along her legs the were angry, red lines of a rash. She saw me gaping and quickly covered up, blushing furiously. She wanted me to drop it, but of course I didn't- it looked so painful I wondered how she could still walk. Finally it came out that an unknown item of her new clothes didn't agree with her skin. I was so relieved that she wasn't sick I laughed. Which, it turned out, was a bad idea. Her face crumpled and she began to cry. So, naturally, I started freaking. I told her I wasn't laughing at her and that she still looked the same to me. Then I told her that she should ditch the new clothes. I didn't care what she wore or what the outcomes of her outfits were. I was getting ready for a watery smile and maybe a kiss (feeling rather proud at my speech) but instead I got _more _tears, a shriek of 'So you _do _want to break up!' and Rachel fleeing from the auditorium.

Well. I was utterly gobsmacked. And after she didn't answer my call (or the seventeen messages I left afterwards) I did what I always do when I'm confused about women stuff. I went to talk to Kurt. I told him the whole story and when I was done he just gave me this look that my mom sometimes gets. I think it's called a long-suffering look. Then he sat me down on his bed and explained to me (in slow, small words) what was really going on. He told me that Rachel was worried about losing me and at my suggestion (which I don't remember suggesting) she got new clothes to make the comments stop so she would be able to hang on to me. He told me she loved me and because of her nature (I could tell he wanted to elaborate on that but stopped himself) she was willing to do anything it took to keep me, even if it meant changing herself. He added (a little irritably) that I _must _have picked up something before about her feelings. After thinking back through everything I sheepishly admitted hat he was right and told him about my conversation with Puck.

Kurt looked like he wanted to throw up his hands in exasperation, but he refrained himself again. He told me exasperatedly (Rachel's word) that kissing it all better did _not _work. Then he hinted (very strongly) that I should go over to Rachel's house and tell her that I'd still want to be with her no matter what. I tried to protest because of my limited vocabulary but he would have none of it. Practically kicking me out of his room he gave me some pointers and then told me to just say what I felt. So I drove to Rachel's house, getting more and more nervous as I got closer. Most guys have to deal with their girl's father, and that's scary enough. After telling Quinn's father that I'd gotten his little girl pregnant I was sure I'd never fear dads again. That was before I met Rachel's dad_s_. (As in, plural. Two. Dos- Thank you, Mr Shue.) Mr Berry Number One looks like a cross between an army general and the Terminator. He's at least a head taller than even me and he is literally the scariest person I've ever met in my life. (This is enhanced by him being African-American- he looks even more ferocious.) The first time I met him I nearly peed myself, and Rachel had giggled about it for a week afterwards. (I didn't care- I was happy to be alive.)

So it's understandable that I was shaking slightly when I knocked on the door. Luckily for me it was Mr Berry Number Two who answered the door. (He's shorter spectacled and far less scary, thank heavens.) He told me Rach had already showered so he didn't want her outside in the cold night air. Then he said that he'd be 'just in the livingroom' in a tone that told me if I took advantage of his daughter's pajama-ed state he'd get Mr Berry Number One to take off my head. He obviously didn't tell Rach it was me because she came to the door without cleaning up at all. She froze when she saw me, turned a mortified red and started sputtering excuses and apologies. I was too bust looking at her to notice. Her hair was damp and mussed and her dace was completely make-up free. And she was dressed only in a T-Shirt. My T-Shirt: the one I'd told her to throw out. It took her up to her knees (I really am that much bigger than her) and the ratty material hung loose around her. She'd never looked more beautiful to me in her life. I told her that, along with Kurt's hints at what to say and then I kissed her to make sure she understood my jumbled words. She finally did, and the first true smile in a week crossed her face.

After that she went back to wearing her old clothes. The comments came back in full vengeance, and they still bother her. But all I have to do is picture her in that (wonderful, gloriously lovely) T-Shirt of mine and I can summon a look that tells her without words that she's mine forever.

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Hope you enjoyed. Please review! =)

the one and only,

anime-lovin'-freak (and friend)


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